


Simple In The Moonlight

by equiuszahhax



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Character, Trans Cullen, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:10:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4735415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equiuszahhax/pseuds/equiuszahhax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen is trans. Dorian is a sweetheart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple In The Moonlight

            From the moment he’d laid eyes on Dorian, Cullen knew he was in deep trouble. From his perfectly maintained moustache to his golden skin to his hazel eyes that glinted with mirth when he smiled, the man was gorgeous; and despite being a Tevinter mage, the very epitome of everything Cullen had been trained to hate, the ex-templar couldn’t help but fall for him.

            If it had just been looks, Cullen might have been able to restrain himself. But no, Dorian was witty, funny, and beneath his sarcastic exterior, genuinely kind. It was no wonder the man had so many admirers, of varying genders.

            It was like a punch in the gut every time Cullen watched Dorian turn down another female admirer. The mage had made his exclusive taste for men quite clear. It wasn’t that Cullen wasn’t a man—he had been quite sure of his maleness since his youth. He was more worried about how Dorian would react to what was beneath his clothes. Namely, breasts and a vagina.

            Cullen was well aware that genitalia had nothing to do with gender, but he had been turned away many times on account of his equipment. It had stung then, even when it was nothing more than a tryst with another bored Templar or curious serving girl. Dorian was someone who Cullen truly cared about, an affection that grew stronger with each regular chess match. To be turned away for something so insignificant was unthinkable.

            And so Cullen buried his feelings in meaningless flirting and easy banter—friendship was better than the sting of inevitable rejection.

* * *

 

            Dorian had made the first move. Well, sort of—he’d stumbled into Cullen’s office drunk, professed his love, and promptly vomited into a potted plant. When he’d awoken the next morning, he’d given Cullen a proper confession, kissing Cullen’s hand and asking to court him.

            (Cullen had eagerly accepted, but still made Dorian brush his teeth before kissing him.)

            When it came down to it, Dorian was actually quite the gentleman. He hadn’t pushed for anything more than Cullen offered, even when they hadn’t moved past kissing months later. Each time he felt the mage heat up, a sick feeling would appear in the blonde’s stomach, and Cullen would hurriedly excuse himself. He felt awful about keeping the secret from his lover, but Dorian made him happier than he’d been in years. He wasn’t willing to risk that just yet.

* * *

 

            They continued their dance like that for months; Dorian was, for one who flirted as much as he did, remarkably patient. It wasn’t that Cullen didn’t _want_ to take things further—the way Dorian looked at him like he’d hung the sun in the sky made Cullen want to do unspeakable things involving beds and mouths and a distinct lack of clothes.

            So when he found himself pinned to the wall of the library early one morning (Cullen doubted Dorian had slept at all) on the receiving end of a very enthusiastic kiss, he let himself give in to his desires, hands clutching at Dorian’s waist as he allowed the mage’s hands to wander. They found their way to Cullen’s rear and squeezed gently, and the commander yelped, feeling himself begin to dampen between his legs. The sensation jolted him back to reality, and he pushed Dorian away suddenly, stumbling away from the wall and trying to ignore the look of hurt in his lover’s eyes.

            “Dorian, I’m… sorry. I can’t.” His words were defeated, an admission of weakness, and he hurried to elaborate. “It’s nothing you’ve done, and Maker knows I want to, but… I just can’t.”

            Dorian nodded, tight lipped and quiet. “Am I allowed to ask why?”

            Cullen froze. He knew this day would come eventually. It wasn’t fair to keep it from Dorian any longer. “Yes,” he said, voice shaking. “But not here. I’ll be in your quarters after dinner.” Without another word, he turned tail and fled, leaving Dorian alone to stew in his thoughts.

            The day seemed to pass far too quickly to Cullen as he busied himself with paperwork and training and other mindless tasks; he supposed to Dorian it was probably the opposite. It still felt all too soon when Cullen found himself outside the mage’s quarters. Hands shaking, he knocked on the rather imposing red door; Dorian opened it almost immediately, and Cullen suspected he had been pacing.

            “Come in, amatus,” he said with a smile, all suave and charm, but Cullen didn’t miss the look of fear in his eyes. He swallowed audibly and stepped into the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

            “So, er… I have something to tell you.”

            Dorian scoffed. “I had assumed.”

            Might as well get it over with, Cullen thought. Better to be blunt. “Are you familiar with Krem, one of the Chargers?” He knew that Dorian and the Bull had had a brief fling that had ended on good terms, so it was reasonable to assume that he knew the mercenary in question.

            Dorian nodded slowly, brows wrinkling in confusion, clearly unsure of where this conversation was going. “Yes, I’ve spoken with the man.”

            Cullen paused, unsure of what to say next. “He—I—” He paused and groaned, covering his eyes with his palms. “Maker, I’m no good at this. I am… not like most men, just as Krem is much like most men.”

            Understanding and relief bloomed on Dorian’s face, and Cullen braced himself for the sting of rejection. Instead, the mage reached for his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it gently.

            “I see. And you were afraid that I would turn you away.”

            Cullen nodded. “Sorry.”

            Dorian smiled a little wistfully. “I must admit, I am unfamiliar with your particular anatomy, but I am nothing if not an eager and willing pupil.” There was that wicked smile of his, the one that made Cullen blush down to his toes.

            “So, you’re alright with me having a vagina?” he said, just to make sure they were on the same page, and felt the tension go out of him as Dorian nodded. The ex-templar let out a giddy laugh, and Dorian stepped towards him, grinning in apparent relief.

            “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said softly, and Cullen nodded, hands moving to cradle Dorian’s head as their lips met. It was sweeter, somehow, with the knowledge that Dorian loved him—all of him, even the parts beneath his clothes. Cullen arched his body into his lover, wanting as many points of contact between them as possible as their lips moved together languidly, as if they had all the time in the world.

            When Cullen pulled away he rested their foreheads together, hands slipping from Dorian’s shoulders to grasp the lapels of his coat. He was breathing heavily, eyes half-lidded as he gazed at Dorian; the mage’s hands were at his hips, but he wanted them so many other places. He jerked his head towards Dorian’s bed, made up in silks and satins.

            “Shall we?”

            Dorian let out a breathless laugh. “I thought you’d never ask.”

            The two fell into the bed together, laughing and clinging to each other as if their lives depended on it, Cullen on his back as Dorian straddled him and kissed him senseless. As his tongue flicked over Cullen’s lower lip, the warrior let out a muffled gasp; one would think that the pair would have grown bored of kissing after nearly a year of nothing else, but both men reveled in the sensation of their lips against each other’s. At the small sound of pleasure, Dorian nipped at the spot his tongue had just passed over, making his lover jump and gasp, louder this time. Slowly, Cullen’s hands wrapped around Dorian, nails digging into the skin of his lower back where his shirt had ridden up and eliciting a shudder. Likewise, Dorian’s hands roamed his lover’s body, pausing at his sides to skin under his shirt and across the slight softness there, evidence of Cullen’s time at a desk. After a few moments sent stroking his (absolutely adorable) stomach, the mages hands moved to trail up his lover’s thighs, gripping them tightly at the junction of leg and hip. Cullen panted at the touch and broke the kiss, mumbling against Dorian’s mouth.

            “As commander of the Inquisition, I advise that both of our clothes make a tactical retreat,” he huffed, and Dorian laughed, even as he fumbled to undo his shirt.

            “Andraste’s knickers, that was bad,” he said, but he was breathless, and as he sat back on his haunches Cullen could see that he was half-hard in his ridiculous leather trousers. “C’mon, you as well. If that’s alright.” He looked suddenly nervous, afraid of scaring Cullen out of bed with his lack of experience. Cullen smiled and pulled the offending garment over his head, revealing a tight breastband that effectively flattened his chest. He paused as he began to unlace it, and Dorian cocked his head.

            “Can I take this off?” Cullen asked, suddenly filled with nerves to match his lover’s.

            “Why wouldn’t you?” Dorian said, seeming genuinely confused. Cullen looked away.

            “I have breasts.”

            Looking nonplussed, Dorian replied. “Well, if they’re anywhere near as lovely as the rest of you, I’m sure I’ll enjoy them.” He leaned down to kiss Cullen softly, pulling back after only a moment. His voice gentled as he spoke again. “If you want to keep them hidden, that’s up to you, but don’t do it on account of me. I fell in love with this,” he kissed Cullen on the forehead, “not this.” He gestured to Cullen’s body.

            Cullen stared at Dorian for a moment; he could feel hot tears threatening to well up, but forced them back down, reaching behind himself to finish undoing the laces. As the garment came off and was immediately flung across the room, Dorian smiled, opening his mouth to say something that was cut off by a groan as Cullen’s thumbs swiped over his nipples.

            Cullen chuckled at the reaction and pinched gently at one of the hardening buds, earning a squeak from the man above him. Dorian’s hips twitched minutely against Cullen’s, and he could feel his lover’s erection against his thigh in a way that made his head spin with arousal. He pulled the mage down for another kiss, and Dorian arched up into him, pressing their bodies flush against each other. Cullen reveled in the feeling of all that golden skin pressed up against his own pale chest, hands tangling in his lover’s hand as the other man dipped down to kiss at his neck.

            Unable to stop the pleased groan that escaped him as Dorian slipped a thigh between his legs, Cullen spread his legs wider, feeling his arousal grow as the mage smirked against his skin. Without warning, he bit down sharply on Cullen’s collarbone, drawing a cry from his kiss-swollen lips. Dorian’s lips trailed down his body, moving from his neck to his soft chest, pausing to circle a nipple with his tongue. Cullen laughed breathlessly, and his lover looked up, sucking lightly before drawing away.

            “Ticklish?” he said, quirking an eyebrow. Cullen’s smile was radiant, and Dorian felt a wave of affection for the beautiful man in his bed.

            “The moustache doesn’t help,” the commander said sheepishly, but Dorian was already moving on, hands cupping Cullen’s meager breasts as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down his stomach and onto his hips. The commander gasped and arched into the touch, releasing Dorian’s now-ruffled hair and tangling in the bedsheets, and by the time Dorian reached the hem of his pants, the man above him was squirming and panting. Dorian swallowed with a mix of nerves and arousal; Cullen was so sensitive and eager and easy to please. He couldn’t help but palm himself through his trousers, deftly undoing his fly with one hand as the other moved to Cullen’s own pants.

            “May I?” he murmured against Cullen’s skin, preparing to flick open the snap.

            “Maker, yes,” Cullen panted, and then Dorian was pulling his pants down along with his smallclothes and pressing wet kisses to his inner thighs.

            Suddenly embarrassed, Cullen attempted to close his legs, but Dorian had wedged himself firmly between them. The commander squirmed, gazing down at his lover with concern in his eyes, but Dorian barely noticed, his eyes instead fixated on the nest of dark blond curls between Cullen’s legs. Slowly, cautiously, he moved a hand from his lover’s thigh and ran his thumb from the apex his slit to just above his entrance; Cullen sighed in a mix of relief and arousal, grinding his hips up against feather-light touch.

            “I’m going to need some guidance here, amatus,” Dorian confessed, and Cullen smiled, beginning to realize that the mage was just as clueless with his anatomy as he was Dorian’s.

            Cullen sat up, taking both of Dorian’s hands in his own and guiding them to his slit. “Use your thumb and forefinger to, er, spread me, and then,” he moved Dorian’s spare hand to his clitoris as the mage followed his instructions. “Rub there. Ah!” He yelped as his lover pushed down just a tad too forcefully. “Gentle!”

            “Shit, sorry,” Dorian yelped. He tried to pull away, but Cullen tugged on his hand, guiding him back to a softer touch as he shook his head.

            “Ah—harder later,” he managed, and rolled his hips into Dorian’s hand. “Now move your fingers in a circle. Like this.” He grabbed Dorian’s hand and demonstrated, unable to stop a gasp from falling from his lips as the dark-haired man took up the motion. Dorian’s smile returned tentatively as Cullen fell back onto the bed, hands releasing the mage’s to tangle in his own hair.

            “Better?” The mage said smugly, licking his lips as Cullen moaned unabashedly and bit down on the pad of his own thumb. A muffled noise of agreement came from above Dorian and he pressed a kiss to the commander’s hip, where his leg met the expanse of his stomach. Maker, but Cullen was _wet,_ and Dorian wanted to taste him. At the thought, he groaned a little, palming at his erection through his smalls; it was getting harder to not stroke himself outright at the delectable little noises Cullen was making. Biting at Cullen’s hip a last time, Dorian drew back, slowing the motions of his hand somewhat.

            “Dorian,” Cullen all but whined, an adorable noise that he was definitely going to get teased for later. “What are you doing?”

            Dorian looked up at Cullen from under heavy lids. “May I—” he made a vague gesture with his free hand, “use my mouth?” He could have sworn he saw Cullen’s pupils dilate on the spot.

            “Please, yes,” he breathed, and Dorian leaned in, spreading Cullen with one hand and pressing the flat of his tongue against the man’s clit. When he was immediately rewarded with a sigh of pleasure, he was emboldened into repeating the motion, a little more firmly as Cullen gasped and squirmed above him. “Dorian, please,” he sobbed, voice rough with arousal, and the mage responded by moaning against him. Cullen’s head shot back against the bed, hands grasping his lover’s hair as he ground himself into Dorian’s mouth; he felt as if he were on fire, a cocktail of emotion and adrenaline and arousal racing through him as the dark haired man enthusiastically ate him out. Cullen watched Dorian’s hand creep down into his smalls, and the following moan sent a shiver through him. The sight of his lover stroking his cock to the sound and taste and smell of Cullen made him groan, and he felt the familiar tightening in the pit of his belly as the beginnings of orgasm began to coil in his groin.

            “Oh, Dorian—I’m close, please,” he managed, and then Dorian took his clit into his mouth and _sucked_ and Cullen was so close he could taste it. “Again,” he demanded, and Dorian obeyed, making the commander shudder and writhe. “Fingers—inside me. Please.” His voice was wrecked, and Dorian could do nothing but obey, gently sliding two inside his lover’s slick entrance and making him cry out. "Curl them like, yes, that, fuck, oh, Dorian!"

            Cullen's orgasm hit him hard, clenching around his lover's fingers and bucking up into his mouth as hot, almost violent pulses of pleasure shot through him. Not thrown off so easily, Dorian moved his fingers in the come-hither motion Cullen seemed to enjoy so much and resumed his broad licks across the man’s clit; the commander all but screamed, body arching off the bed, taut like a bow as Dorian stroked him through his climax. He didn’t stop until Cullen tugged lightly at his hair, whimpers of pleasure turning to slight discomfort. At once the mage drew back, resting his head against his lover’s thigh; his mustache was slick with Cullen’s arousal, and when he gently pulled his fingers out, they glistened in the lamplight. Making eye contact with the blond, he sucked both into his mouth, and the man above him groaned.

            “Maker, Dorian. That was—” he trailed off with a happy sigh, and Dorian smiled.

            “Not too bad for my first time, hmm?” he snickered, and Cullen laughed.

            “You were fantastic.” His eyes darted to the dark haired man’s erection, forgotten during his own orgasm. “Do you want me to…?”

            Dorian climbed up to join Cullen at the head of the bed and kissed him, a moan escaping the commander at the taste. “Only if you want to, amatus.”

            Cullen nodded. “I would like that. What do you, er, want me to do?”

            Dorian pondered for a moment, before rolling to snatch a vial of oil from the bedside drawer. “Would you object to me using your thighs?”

            Going slightly red, Cullen shook his head. “That sounds good. I must confess, I don’t think I could survive another round.” Dorian laughed at that, and wrapped his arms around the commander, holding him from behind. A quick touch to the inside of his thighs and they were prepared; so much easier than proper penetration, Cullen thought. A kiss to the back of his neck distracted him from the thought as Dorian pulled him flush against him; he could feel his lover’s erection against the curve where his thighs met his ass, and a shiver ran through him as Dorian pushed between his thighs, the oil slick and soft against Cullen’s skin as he began to move.

            He didn’t make a production of it like others seemed to; with small, controlled thrusts, Dorian fucked Cullen’s thighs, just below his sex. The soft touches felt good; while he didn’t think he could go again so soon, Cullen enjoyed the sensation, Dorian’s lips on his neck and jaw, and his breathy moans and whines, just next to his lover’s ear as he thrust. He must have been close, because it was only a matter of minutes before the mage bit down gently on Cullen’s shoulder and his hips stilled, and something hot splattered onto his inner thigh. A pleased, sated hum came from behind Cullen, and the arms around his waist tightened.

            “Cullen,” Dorian breathed after a moment, slipping away from Cullen for a moment. The sound of water splashing in a basin could be heard before he returned with a damp cloth and began to gently clean the skin he had touched, wiping the oil and spare slick from within Cullen’s thighs. The commander sighed happily and let himself be cleaned, and after a moment, Dorian was embracing him again, head tucked snugly against the curve of his neck.

            “I love you,” Cullen whispered, squeezing Dorian’s hand where it lay across his waist.

            “And I you, amatus.”

            “Can I stay?”

            “Of course.”


End file.
